It felt silent but rather, it was the gentle orchestra of the backwoods.
My dogs stay close while all around us acorns bounce off of the ground that is covered with pine needles the color of an amber beach.
The transitioning green ferns now spotted in shades of brown, dance in the breeze as autumn’s-colored leaves flutter like butterflies.
Almost tiptoeing, we walk, scanning trees and fallen wood branches for any sign of hidden life.
Caught by surprise, a chipmunk makes its shrieking, chipping noise and scampers away.
Squirrels bark, warning the forest of a hawk or an owl which is present and looking for lunch.
Spotting some raccoons, I call the dogs in to sit and stay nearby. Always attentive, they move their heads, instinctively sniffing the air with their noses and perking up their ears.

Musher, Dog Sled Race

As I took my coffee this morning to our back porch I sat to the faint sound of a crow. The sun was warm and the air crisp, as fall begins to move in.

I knew that when I left several days ago to travel to my brother’s wedding that on that day my last batch of baby sparrows was ready to fly. I knew that when I returned my yard would be quiet from all of the summer’s busy activity and that the sweet sound of chirping and the entertaining fluttering of wings would not greet me on my return. Yet, this morning I keep turning my head, looking, waiting and anticipating the pleasurable union of morning coffee and birds. It seems far too hushed. It is not that I am not ready for the fall, I love it.  It is just that this has been my first summer as a “birder” and I have been amply filled with a different kind of joy than I have ever experienced. Hardly a day has gone by when I have not “gone fishin”...a phrase I have named my latest passion for bird photography.

Several weeks ago a friend, whom I have written about before, showed me her split avocado seed. She said to me “Look at this. How can anyone not marvel at Gods creation?” Her seed was perfectly split in half with the male part on one side and the female part on the other side.  She found it fascinating how intricate and organized God’s work can be.

In many ways it is like my bird summer. The wonder of it all… God’s creation.

I will never forget the day that it all began. My husband mentioned that a red cardinal had just crossed our yard. As I looked I grabbed my camera and snuck around the house. The cardinal was nowhere to be seen. I stood waiting when I noticed motion in front of our porch in the bushes. Just then the cardinal flew out. I looked and saw nothing but I was curious as to why he had been in them. I then entered our porch and as I looked through the window, there it was just 2 feet away… a nest with 4 fledgling cardinals. I was smitten immediately! The next 48 hours changed my entire summer.

I know more about birds today than I ever have. I have watched observed and gotten lost in them. In some ways I feel it has been a gift. With the world on fire and so much to be genuinely concerned about this dear hobby of bird watching has brought me solitude. It has given me an opportunity to practice and learn more on my camera, to visit and talk to people along the way and to have a sense of peace in spite of all the tribulation.

One day as I thought about how I was feeling, I thought this must be how a fisherman feels, lost in the water, the quiet, the reflections and the distant sound of wildlife. I thought about how I had never just done something because I enjoyed it. I thought how I hadn’t really taken the time to observe God’s creation, to ponder how nature works, lives and responds to His environment.  I always sort of shrugged my shoulders at “those” nature people. Many who I have visited with were not Christians, but as a Christian I should more fully embrace what He has given us...that which He created in the world. My bird watching has caused me to consider the sun, sky, ocean, rivers, thunder, lightning and the seasons. I have reflected on the book of Genesis and how marvelous Eden must have been and how again in the future heaven will knock our socks off…Are there socks in heaven?

Did you know that some male birds make several nests and then take the female around to pick the one that suits her fancy? Or that many birds return year after year to the same familiar place? A person can actually plan and prepare for their arrival by adding to the garden and yard things that bring them pleasure. Did you know that yard birds are territorial and oust other birds from a birdhouse or nesting place? They defend their nest and fledglings from predators.

In our yard I observed that when birds are born many others gather around, chirp and get excited. They do the same thing when babies are ready to leave the nest. All at once there is a gathered flock, making all kinds of noise and letting everyone know…"Look out they’re ready to fly!"

It’s as though the local bird kingdom is proud and showing off…it is simple charming!

Barbie

There is much to be said about being a photographer or a hobbyist of camera clicking. When taken seriously, both of these pursuits evoke emotion and passion.  I have watched others who love the craft... and yes it is a craft. Like any art it involves time, energy, detail, understanding, and devotion. It is one thing to take a picture, it is quite another when your camera becomes a part of you. “To see” in everything a story, a color, a movement or a reflection is somewhat obsessive and often times disappointing. It is very hard to capture in a picture what the eye witnesses.  It is intrinsically connected to the old adage, “stop and smell the roses” over and over again.

Doing photography is a commitment and a challenge. It is more than getting a picture. Discerning what your camera can do and how to use it is not an easy learning curve. For a person like myself, who is a bit slow on recall, I find I must return regularly to the guide and to question and ponder all the perplexing combinations of possibilities. It took me months to mentally coordinate what an f-stop, shutter speed, iso and exposure were. Coordinating and utilizing them when the time comes is quite another thing.

I look at the work of others and find myself comparing. At times I scream at over edits and PhotoShop fakery. I do feel there is a certain medium both professionally and personally for over edits, but really? As a lover of reality I would like to see pure work in the realm of genuine mediums.(minimum edites)  I’d like to see work that shouts “Hoorah I did it!”

What do I mean by that? I like to see a work in which I know as a photographer what it took… When I look at your work I would like to take myself to what was going through your mind as you sat for hours, walked or hiked , having lugged your camera and equipment, while purposefully settling into an environment, if only in your yard. It can be a painstaking process resulting in the “joy” of the beholder. I like to consider how chaotic, brazen or beautiful the day or nighttime was as you pointed your lens and adjusted your settings. I like to contemplate what you must have felt when you uploaded your photos to your computer, only to be disappointed or thrilled with the end results. I don’t want to waste my time wondering how you edited them, I want to be taken back to the purpose of all of it...

p-h-o-t-o-g-r-a-p-h-y

I have 2 stories which I’d like to relate to you. The first was on July 4rth this year. I was taking pictures of the fireworks and stood near some ladies when a conversation was struck up. The ladies were mother and daughter; they had known my mom who passed away the year before. I was intentionally set up at the school she had taught at and right beside the window to her old classroom. (I hold my memories of mom close to my heart when I am taking pictures.) One lady talked to me about her young son who had been one of mom’s students. She enthusiastically told me all about her son and his photography and videos. She told me how he had used Twitter and hash tagged his work to National Geographic. Apparently his work was so good that they want him to come and see them once he is older. He is now 17. I was excited for her and for her son, what great work he must be doing! Then she started to tell me how she has been with him in the wilderness as he “stages” his work!

Say it isn’t so!

Right then and there I had a flashback to when I first discovered that Saturday night wresting tv matches were fake…Devastated! "Oh," I thought, "please, please, please when I look at National Geo let me not see staging!" I’m not saying they do, as I really feel they are true to their philosophical boundaries. But still she put a bug in my ear that left my mouth wide open. As I tried not to show my feelings... it was hard to maintain my appreciation for her sons work. Staging wildlife? Who does that? What about all the books that talk about the rule of thirds, composition and lighting?

The second story happened just this week. I had been in the marsh in very wet and buggy conditions. I watched for hours hoping that the shy white egret youngsters would come near me so that I might capture a picture. Never having shot in these conditions with strong lighting, green as green can be, wetland grass and white birds I was nervous. Plus I had forgotten a filter sunglass lens. (I got eaten alive since I also forgot bug juice.) After I loaded up my pictures and landed on a few that I thought were ok, I took them to the neighborhood printers. This printer happens to have top notch equipment,(Forest Ave  CyberCopy.) I asked them to enlarge my photos on 11’17’ 80 pound glossy poster paper. I loved the results. The paper and image of my pictures looked more like paintings and the ink and color were superb.  Later that day, having lost my battery charger, I went to the Photography Shop where I buy my lens and supplies. I brought in my pictures to show them, there were around eight of them. After a bit, I noticed that there wasn't an overabundance of impression on the sales clerks' behalf. Two gathered round, one questioned my edit job (they are big on PhotoShop and classes). He didn’t like the paper it was printed on (they use real photography paper) and have I considered printing my own? They were having a great sale on a printer.

No “atta boy” at this stop. All I could think was, "… come on ...how about a little encouragement...something? I’ve spent a small fortune here."

This is is why I am not a joiner of groups or communities, I'm always suspicious.  I like the freedom to do my own thing, but occasionally I’d like some input. Though I am not even close to being a feminist I’m thinking maybe real girls (I am all of 4’11’ and 110 pounds) don’t crawl through the swap to take pictures and commune with wildlife?

You have to love it!

When I originally moved to Portland, Maine in the late 70’s I fell in love with the place. I had grown up in Caribou, Maine…far from the ocean, and although I still have good childhood memories of Caribou, moving to Portland was quite a thrill. I remember driving all around with new found friends along roads that, at every corner, exposed views that would take my breath away. I quickly grew accustomed to the docks, fisherman and local haunts. While I loved (and still do), driving the spectacular roads with views and breaking waves off the rocky ocean landscape, I enjoy being on foot the most.

I love to walk ocean city streets. I love the smell, the colors, the tattered look of lobster cages, ropes  dangling from boats, and the determined, hardworking demeanor of those who make a living on the waterfront. I have a fondness for the worn down buildings and restaurants. I love the hustle of the islanders coming off the ferries on the “mainland” and heading to their offices and up town to put in their various days of work.

I like the brick and mortal of the once infested unpopular waterfront districts, now lined with rustic shops and pricey tourist memorabilia. I love the smell of competing fancy coffee, doughnut, and cookie stores along with the near hits that gawking tourists almost always seem to experience at the hands of Commercial Street traffic or over- zealous skateboarders. I love street vendors, the thin alleyways, the décor and hippy dippy clothing and consignment retail purchases. I adore the antique and brass signs, misplaced and crooked on the window arches.

I cannot imagine ever living away from the ocean. To me, every single waterfront is a gateway to the world, whether you ever go anywhere. The waterfront is the place stories and poems are written about. It is a place of enchantment, wonder, and lingering mystery.

Barbie

And God said, “Let the water under the sky be gathered in one place, and let the dry ground appear.” And it was so. God called the dry ground “land,” and the gathered waters he called ‘seas.” And God saw that it was good.

Genesis 1:9-10

I am so thankful that the prism of my own understanding is forced to depend on God.

Thinking about those who are facing “goodbye” and are processing their loss.

 God’s Peace to you,

Barbie

  “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12

 

Excerpt from ‘When It’s all Said and Done’

“Knowing what is to come, does not soften the reality when it does come. Thinking we are prepared for death isn’t the same as facing it.”

 

Dear Twitter,

Not since listening to Kim Komando’s explanation of the future of technology, as understood in ICloud, has my brain had such a meltdown. I say that with genuine appreciation to Kim’s keen intelligence on all matters “techie.” I joined Twitter in May of 2011 to follow breaking news and things of interest, i.e. The Drudge Report, CNSNews, Debkafile News and Arutz Sheva Briefs. Several weeks ago I decided to “join” and get involved in this social network. Mostly, I was frustrated with the current affairs of our country, along with the world in general. I thought perhaps I may find others of “like mind” who felt like me.

Wow...did I ever!

After a few days, and some lovely follow backs (#Thank you) I began to ponder just how your network actually works in terms of responding to my new found “community.” Twitter has so many subcultures, therefore I had to determine which ones I wanted to define as my "prefer to follow” tags. I am following Christians, Conservatives and military men and women, both active and retired, along with their supporters.

After a few paltry attempts at “tweeting,” I proceeded to the local book store to purchase Twitter for Dummies, thinking this would be helpful to my delayed learning curve. Wrong.

The very first line in the books forward says “Let’s be honest. You’re not a dummy.” No I’m not, but I’m not as smart as the dummies book. Honestly, try as I may, I am not able to get past RT, favorite and reply. Every day I am a newbie and it’s starting to bother me. I feel foolish sending a full newbie disclosure to followers.

 I get so excited when my phone dings me with a new tweet, or as we use to say, “you’ve got mail.” I run to see your shared message or my inclusion in a message sent out as a group. I love to see I’ve been followed. At least I have caught on in the silently assumed behavior of sending a 'thank you' and to re-follow those of interest. In reading “for dummies,” I get the "not to exceed 140 characters," but not how to send a group shout out. When I am included in a group message with only a bunch of @names and nothing else, I’ve yet to figure out the etiquette of responding. All the while, I am thrilled to be a “part of” your community. I also understand from “for dummies,” that I should be sensitive to the tw or twi prefix ie tweet, tweeple, and tweetup, and assess whether I will be using it as my language or not. I won’t be using it except as the word tweet applies.

For those who have never read this book and are advanced in their techie mental finger speed, kudos to you. I really admire you and I am jealous.

Page 108 says the name of the game is engagement. Ok but I’m on page 108 and the best I’ve got is “don’t use any more than 140 characters.” I’m really not a dummy, so why do I feel like one? On page 145, I am introduced to #hashtags. That one I learned 3 weeks before I bought the book, therefore I can move on, but not until I make a mental note-to-self to not over use hashtags. Before I am able to apprehend the whole idea of Twitter conversation, code of behavior and those favorite group includes, “for dummies” suggests yet another impossibility called branching out with #thirdparty applications. Just when I thought I was getting somewhere I am being lead to other software downloads with names like Seemic Desktop, TweetDeck, Digsby, Friedcell, Blip and Twitterific. Seriously, I just want to visit properly!

Mind you, I kept looking at your retweets and scratching my head while pondering the 140 character and your links to web sites. What’s bit.ly? Uhh... a quick google search away and easy directions, PASTE and COPY, it doesn’t get much easier for those of us "not dummy" types.

I must confess that 6 months before I turned 50 I spent a tremendous amount of time at #BestBuy. I went in repeatedly to talk to a lovely clerk who was #IPHONE smart. She taught me most of what I would need to know. I have now been using an IPHONE for over 5 years. As a newbie to IPHONE it wasn’t this painful. Yep, my whole world seemed to fit into my phone.

At this writing I only have 36 twitter followers.The highest compliment I had yesterday was to be added to a list called “friendly to Israel." This truly tugged at my heart strings. 

Essentially, what I mean to say is that I am enjoying your tweets tremendously. I am not sure I will be catching up very quickly, but I so appreciate hanging out in this  age of social networking and finding others who are #StandUpPatriots, #DefendersOfFreedom, #BibleBelievingChristians, #SupportersOfFamily, #OutspokenVoices, #Hoorah, #NeverForget and #GodBless people... no matter who or where you are. ( I know that’s more than 2 hashtags)

  Barbie

Excerpt from chapter 2 'When It's All said and Done'
"Mom introduced me to the computer when she was attending Antioch, to receive her Master’s Degree in teaching. We lived in Castine, and I was completely against this technological craziness. She and Dad gave us our first computer so she could show me how to use it and instant message me. She was quite proud of her ability to understand this “new age”. She loved MAC’s and was always showing me
the one at Stevens Brook Elementary School, and all that it could do for her kindergarten class. "

  “So you think you can write?” or, “So you think you can take “good” pictures?” Don’t we all? It was not until I jumped in wholeheartedly, out of a genuine love and passion, that I realized the extent of popularity in the self-publishing or photography arena. I was, and am, on such a learning curve…I had no idea of the language, seriousness, commitment and time it would consume. I only knew that I l enjoy both mediums. I find myself unable to walk away. I am obsessed. I don’t know what makes a person a “photographer,” any more than what makes someone a writer. My husband says that we become one, (either of the aforementioned), the moment we begin to write or take a picture. But I am talking about a real photographer or a real writer, according to the lay-person’s standards.

I suppose it’s when you become good at your “craft.” But “good” is in the eye of the beholder. I read incessantly about photography, yet I cannot retain the information when it comes time to click my camera.
I look at other people’s photos and appreciate the vision that is seen and captured.
I was watching the Westminster Dog Show and, while I enjoyed seeing the beautiful dogs, I couldn’t help but find myself drawn to the photographers in the background. I said to myself, “I need to practice taking pictures in low light without using a flash” and, “I wonder what kind of a lens they are using.”  I kept getting distracted from the dogs as I attentively looked for “real photographers.” After all, they were in the front row at the Westminster Dog Show… they must be “real” photographers.
Once, I was at an event (with my camera, of course, which hardly ever leaves my side), and a gentleman began to “compare” with me. Apparently, he was a photographer. He held in his hands, like me, his pride and joy…a digital camera. You know the posture we take? Cute… He sort of snubbed me as I only have a Nikon 3100. Only! This baby cost me $500 dollars along with the throw-in package 200 zoom lens. I had in my “bag” another lens which cost me an additional $500. That’s a lot of money for this gal. Although, I guess that if you’re a serious photographer it’s a nothing camera, but this camera has become a part of me. It fits in my hands like a perfect set of gloves.
My goal, at this event, was to take photos and create a memorable music DVD. I do it free, as well as print pictures, to personally hand to people. What fun!
 This gentleman asked me “Do you shoot in the R-A-W?”, “Yep” I said, having no idea what he even meant! “Take that,” I thought, “see, I’m a photographer.” (For those who do not know, RAW is a developed photo or actually undeveloped photo. RAW is like the old way: it sits sort of like a negative in storage until you’re ready to process it.  It is different than JPEG, which is what most people use.  Not understanding the difference makes them…NOT a photographer, I suppose).
The best advice I was ever given concerning shooting pictures in this digital era was to take as many …and even more than you can think of. Never forget, it’s free to delete them and have a blast!

Barbie

Excerpt from Chapter 6 'When It's All Said and Done'

  " That September, I started taking more pictures than ever. I would drive to Bridgton past a farm that gave me comfort. I watched the season’s sunlight transition and waved at the tractor drivers plowing the fields. I looked forward to seeing the cows and sheep, stopping regularly to photograph them. I began to use my photos to make short DVD music videos about 2-5 minutes long. I would sit for hours at night, editing, improving and telling our story through this medium. Eventually I splurged from a small Sony “point and shot” camera to a Nikon 3100. It became my distraction. I have returned to those DVDs, and they truly reveal memories of my sorrow."

I love books! Mom loved books, too. They were by far her most treasured items. If asked, both of us would say our favorite book is and was the Bible. Mom was always discovering things in this “ancient of times” writing. It was Mom who introduced me to a study on the book of Exodus (the second book contained within the great book).
Exodus means ‘exit’ or ‘departure.’ It was written by Moses and it is rich in a type of, or “shadow of” things to come. God uses much in the Old Testament historically, and in patterns which point to the future, and to His deliverance through Jesus Christ.

Exodus also gives a very detailed description of the Tabernacle. The Pentateuch devotes more verses to the tabernacle than any other object.  It foretells the future Temple in Jerusalem, but more importantly the book of Hebrews tells us it is also a foreshadowing of a heavenly sanctuary, the one that Jesus has entered on our behalf as High Priest.

“Make this tabernacle and all its furnishings exactly like the pattern I show you”

Exodus 25:9

“See that you make them according to the pattern shown you on the mountain.”

Exodus 25:40

Moses had ascended Mount Sinai to meet with God. Here he was given detailed instructions concerning all matter of building, design, and worship of the Tabernacle.

The book of Hebrews in the New Testament continues and affirms these instructions.

“They serve at the sanctuary that is a copy and shadow of what is in heaven. This is why Moses was warned when he was about to build the tabernacle; see to it that you make everything according to the pattern shown you on the mountain.”

Hebrews 8:5

Mom was enthusiastic about this study of the Tabernacle. She gathered books, diagrams, videos and Bible references for us to use. It was because of her revelation to me, and her follow through in my life, that I became an ardent student of both Exodus and Hebrews. They opened up the eyes of my understanding of who God is. His Holiness, His Law, His Grace, and His Love are all evident in  His Word. His documentation and council in the Bible written for all time acknowledges that He is  the Alpha and the Omega, knowing the beginning from the end.

Barbie

I saw today on Facebook a post which said

“I never knew I was a caregiver until I started doing things for Mom that I never did before.”

Alzheimer’s Awareness

My Mom was 73 years old, and my Aunt was 71 years old when Alzheimer’s and related complications took their lives. Each of these women were attractive and vivacious, with a keen sense of humor.  Both were energetic and enthusiastic about the things that they found pleasurable, and both seemed to have had an aggressive form of this illness which quickly attacked them in the end.

Having just turned 55 years old myself, I have to say that both women by no means, in my mind, looked or acted like “old” people. Yet, when those of us who looked after them began to regard their cognitive decline, it was like witnessing a fast moving train toward death.

Alzheimer’s is generally marked in 7 stages. Mom walked through the stages quickly, while others may linger in them for prolonged years. Mom could have possibly been in early stages of Alzheimer’s undetected by us for a long time, but it was not until we witnessed her loss of language that we took notice of something wrong. Mom was originally diagnosed with Primary Progressive Aphasia. I suspect she had both, or that they overlapped into one big mess of an illness for her.

As a caregiver…(it makes me want to laugh aloud, as the word “caregiver” rests on the surface of a page as though it is a sweet and endearing word, it’s not),  my Dad experienced long and painfully difficult days waiting on, and watching over his beloved wife.

As I have been writing this book, Dad has commented often about things in which he had forgotten. Dad never had time to “catch up” through his care giving days. He just kept bravely putting one foot in front of the other. As I look back, I don’t know how he ever had time to do anything but address the moment and do what needed to be done.

Caregiver: a person who has accepted responsibility to look over a vulnerable neighbor or relative.

That’s a big pill to swallow, and my hat is tipped to all who have taken on this daunting task.

May God Bless, and give you strength and an abundance of merciful patience.

Thank you Dad for being a devoted husband, and for loving and caring for Mom with all your heart.

Your daughter Barbie

My husband and I try to take a yearly weekend to travel to New York City. We have many memories of the Big Apple, and I write some about this in our book. I also write about my friendship to a wonderful woman who I have now known for 43 years. My friend, Marikay, had never been to the city until this past week. We traveled with her and her husband to see the sights.

This past week, New York City had record cold weather, the likes of which have not been recorded for 118 years. This was Marikay’s introduction to the grueling walks, festive lights, screeching and hustling sounds and warm smoky sweet smells. She did not get even a whiff of the wonderful street vender’s myriad of food, since the air was so cold that they were hardly seen. If one witnessed them, their carts had the appearance of a lost silver igloo misplaced on a city corner in lonely frigid air.

The sound of people whistling for a taxi or streets in honking traffic were also missing, as well as the Central Park parade of horse drawn carriages with drivers in amusing whimsical costumes. No, New York City was not necessarily asleep, but it was hunkered down and in slow motion as if it were with tourist, not looking up to the skyline of tall buildings, but with faces and bodies tucked in layers of coats, hats, mittens, socks and scarfs. It was cold!

We made our way through the city in a double decker hop-on hop-off bus. The unheated bus sustained us with only a smidgen of protection from the below zero temperatures. We were on a mission to see the sights and to go to the World Trade Center so that Marikay and her husband Dave could pay their respects. 

Mission accomplished!

Thank you, people of New York City, for your thoughtfulness and perseverance against many tragic losses, and for your undying spirit of pride.

Barbie

 

It was on May 15 2013 that I finished the last page and closed the cover of the book I had been reading. I looked out into the ocean and thought for a bit. Then I spoke aloud to my husband “I think I’ll write a book”. His response “I think you should”.

It had been just 50 days since I had lost Mom. My husband, Dave, had brought us to one of our favorite spots in the Dominican Republic, The Barceló Bavero Beach in Punta Cana. Before we left for this get away, Dad had bought me a book to read. It was a story written by a popular journalist about herself and her Mother, who had Alzheimer’s. While it was very good, making me cry and laugh at different times, it wasn’t our story.The author wrote her story, but she either hadn’t reached the final days or she had decided not to share them. My pain was still exposed and tender having witnessed the life and death of my dear Mom with the same illness.

My family had just walked through the last months, weeks, days, and minutes of our Mom’s life. We were still in shock and grief.

Our story also included our Christian faith. The truth, the mystery, the believer’s conviction and our dependence in God through this insidious illness was missing.

And so I said, “I think I’ll write a book.”


Barbie

Sweet Georgie Ann was my Mother. She was a wife, mother, daughter, sister, Grammy, kindergarten teacher, Christian and friend. On March 26th 2013 she passed on from this world to heaven. Mom was 73 years old when she died from Alzheimer’s. Mom was an avid reader and book “aficionado”. She adored children’s books most of all.

Our first book When It’s All Said and Done is a memoir of sorts, in our journey through this illness. We will be publishing this book in the next 30 days…God willing. Also I am working on several children’s books with distinctly Christian and Historical content.

Though I don’t proclaim myself a writer or a photographer, both mediums have stirred a passion and drive within me over recent years.

It is my hope that the reader of this first publication will be illuminated by the honest portrayal of our journey from beginning to end, through this terrible disease. Furthermore, I hope the reader is able to glean from these pages, the hope which we all have through trust and faith in Jesus Christ.   

It’s safe to say that not everyone is at the same place spiritually, but this book is and remains unapologetically truthful; not only to the nature of my wonderful mother, but to some of the very attributes of who God is, along with His desire for each of us. My hope and prayer is that the reader is sustained by His presence in their lives, as we have been.

Barbie